


being pulled by you

by archaeocyaths



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Drinking, Drunkenness, Falling In Love, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Love Confessions, M/M, Meet-Cute, and he is one confident motherfucker, discussions of fate, kim mingyu in the denim jacket, lee chan in a crop top, side seokmin/minghao, side seungkwan/vernon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:08:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26454652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archaeocyaths/pseuds/archaeocyaths
Summary: Kim Mingyu falls in love on a Friday evening.There’s nothing particularly notable about this Friday evening; no once-in-a-lifetime meteor shower, no coming-of-age experience with his friends fit for a movie, but Mingyu learns quickly that there is something special about Lee Chan.or, how to fall in love and how to say it.
Relationships: Kim Mingyu/Lee Chan | Dino
Comments: 20
Kudos: 73
Collections: A Sip of Summer Wine





	being pulled by you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pixiepower](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixiepower/gifts).



> title from sun & moon by nct 127.
> 
> written as a self-prompt for Summer Wine Fest and as a gift exchange with isabelle—i hope i've held up my end of the bargain!

Kim Mingyu falls in love on a Friday evening. 

There’s nothing particularly notable about this Friday evening; no once-in-a-lifetime meteor shower, no coming-of-age experience with his friends fit for a movie. Honestly, it was pretty quotidian up until the whole falling in love part. He’d arrived late to Seokmin’s apartment for the pregame, as per usual. They’d called a taxi and headed to a nightclub in Hongdae to meet up with Minghao, Hansol, and a handful of their other friends, so routine it only required a handful of logistical texts. It wasn’t even that notable that Seungkwan had invited someone else along. 

There’s nothing special about this Friday evening, but Mingyu learns quickly that there is something special about Lee Chan. 

—

Mingyu is fairly sure he’s drunk. 

He was already a little tipsy when they got to the club, all piling out of the cab and overlapping thanks to their exasperated driver with yells at Seokmin to leave him a tip, even as Seokmin yells back that tipping is a fucked up Western concept and there’s not even an option on Kakaotaxi anyway. But then they met up with Seungkwan and Minghao in line, and Mingyu barely heard Seungkwan mention that his friend would be joining them soon, and then they got into the club and ordered an extravagant amount of soju. 

The logic only follows that by the time Seungkwan’s friend joins them, Mingyu is already loose and loud and tactile, hanging over Seokmin’s shoulder and smacking loud kisses to his cheek as Minghao protests and Seokmin just laughs and laughs. Mingyu barely notices the newcomer until Seungkwan is smacking at his arm and telling him to be polite in Jeju-eo, dropping honorifics. 

“Yah, you hypocrite,” Mingyu whines, but nonetheless relinquishes Seokmin to his boyfriend and turns to Seungkwan and—and someone who is magnetic, all bright eyes and friendly smile and the most beautiful man Mingyu has ever seen.

“Chan, meet Kim Mingyu, my hyung. Hyung, this is Lee Chan,” Seungkwan says, all efficiency, and so very Seungkwan. Acting all business-like but sliding Mingyu a too-innocent smile, like he has _no idea what he’s doing, hyung, what on earth are you suggesting?_

“Hi,” Chan says, either coy or shy, Mingyu can’t tell. “Seungkwan-hyung’s mentioned you before, I think.”

“Good things, I hope,” Mingyu says, his mouth somehow overriding the part of his brain desperate to ask Chan if he’s really wearing a crop top. 

“Well, it’s Seungkwan-hyung,” Chan shoots back with a grin. “It’s as good as you could expect from him.”

Mingyu is stunned into pleased silence and he swears he can feel his heart rip off a tiny piece of itself and offer it to Chan. Seungkwan makes a betrayed sound, winding up to start scolding, but Hansol wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him out to dance, his conflict diffusal skills as smooth as ever. It leaves just Mingyu and Chan at the booth Seokmin and Seungkwan had managed to carve out for their coats, Mingyu seated and Chan standing a little awkwardly. 

Mingyu quickly beckons him to sit and he does, sliding into the bench across from Mingyu. When their knees brush together, Chan doesn’t pull away. So he’s not shy, then.

“You’re younger than Seungkwan,” Mingyu says, pouring two shots and passing one to Chan. “That makes me your hyung too, then.” 

“Ah, thank you,” Chan murmurs, lifting the glass. They both take the shots, grapefruit-flavored, and Chan clears his throat. “Hyung. Yeah, I’m a year younger than Seungkwan and Hansol.”

Mingyu nods. “And I’m a year older.” It doesn’t really make for enticing conversation, but in his defense, his brain is steeping in soju and maybe he’s focusing a bit more on Chan’s tongue running over his bottom lip than small talk. 

Still, Chan doesn’t seem to be thrown off, and he snorts. “Man, you should kick Seungkwan’s ass for all the times he’s bitched about you without any honorifics.”

“Well, you just did the same thing,” Mingyu shoots back with a grin, the one that he normally uses to invite strangers to join him across the bar. “And it’s not like he doesn’t do it in front of me, too.” 

Chan hums, looking over him. “So you’re a pushover, then?” He doesn’t say it like it’s a bad thing. 

Mingyu looks back at Chan, taking him in. Part of him wants to get Chan out onto the dancefloor, feel those bared hips on his hands, press up against his back close enough that their cheeks touch, roll together in time to the heavy beats. But the larger part of him, the romantic part, wants to spend the rest of the night talking. He wants to learn about Chan, what he does for a living, how he met Seungkwan, where he grew up, if he ever looks up at the few stars they can see at night and think about how everyone else doing the same thing has as rich an inner life as he does. 

But Mingyu is drunk, and that’s maybe a lot for a first conversation. 

“Only for some people,” is what Mingyu finally says, only answering when Chan quirks an eyebrow in question.

“Oh yeah?” And Chan pauses here, hesitates, like he’s wondering if he’s read Mingyu and Seungkwan’s bickering all wrong. “What makes Seungkwan so special?”

Mingyu leans forward, knowing that the shirt he’s wearing is buttoned low enough to draw Chan’s eyes. He holds the silence for another anticipatory moment. “I don’t want us to get kicked out of any more clubs.” 

Chan’s eyes widen, and then he’s throwing his head back and laughing and exposing a delicious-looking neck. Mingyu can’t pull his eyes away, and he doubts he’d notice if the music were to stop and the lights go up with the way his attention is focused, laser-pointer narrow. 

He may be two steps past tipsy, but Mingyu knows he’s already far gone for this beautiful boy. 

“I like you, Kim Mingyu,” Chan says when he meets Mingyu’s eyes again. He pulls the soju towards him and refills their glasses. “To Seungkwan-hyung, huh?”

Mingyu raises his glass, cheers it to Chan’s. “To Seungkwan. For introducing us.” 

Their eyes linger on each other, holding contact as they throw the soju back. It’s hot, watching Chan’s throat contract as he swallows, how he tilts his head like a challenge or an invitation when they set their glasses down and neither of them look away. Mingyu is probably smiling, never able to keep any sort of poker face when he’s been drinking, and maybe it’s the way Chan smiles back, but it’s more likely the way Chan licks his lips again to capture any leftover alcohol that makes Mingyu feel fine with not talking much more.

“Want to dance?” he asks, standing up and holding out a hand. Chan takes it, lacing their fingers together. He looks up at Mingyu, noticing his height for the very first time, and runs his free hand up Mingyu’s chest to his shoulder. Mingyu isn’t sure if it’s the mix of vodka and soju running through his veins or if it’s Lee Chan, but he feels ignited. 

“Yeah, Kim Mingyu." He hums, considering, before saying again, "I like you.” 

Mingyu becomes fairly sure it’s Lee Chan. 

He grins and leads Chan out to the dance floor, carving out a space for the two of them in the press of bodies, heat the catalyst for a chemical reaction that pulls the two of them together. Mingyu puts his hands on Chan’s hips, landing on jeans and bare skin. Chan’s arms loop around Mingyu’s neck, the barest amount of pressure an excuse for Mingyu to tilt his head close, close. And he is intoxicating this close, this warm. 

“I like you too,” Mingyu says, voice pitched deep to be heard over the music, a side effect of Chan pressing close to him. “I like your crop top.” He runs his thumb over the exposed line of Chan's hip to punctuate his words. Chan grins at him, preens a little like he likes to be complimented. Mingyu files that away for later, though he knows there's no way he'll forget. 

“Thanks,” Chan says, and they’re close enough to each other that it feels intimate, the way they don’t have to shout like so many club encounters require. “I was hoping someone cute would notice.”

And it’s an opening, one Mingyu is glad to take. “Oh yeah? Am I cute?”

Chan just laughs, a hand tangling in the hair at the nape of Mingyu’s neck. “You are so much more, I think.” He pauses, teeth playing at his lower lip for a second. “I’d like to find out for sure.”

Mingyu may be smooth, knowing just which strings to tug and places to press to get someone to want to come home with him, to just plain want him. But he is also made fuzzy enough by the alcohol in his system and the feeling he is quick to identify as _Chan_ that he can’t find the will to play it cool. 

“I want you to find out, too,” Mingyu says, and he dips his head a little further. He’s not sure when they started to dance, swaying and pressing in time with the music, but they’re locked into the same rhythm, moving together as naturally as an ocean current. “And I want to find out about you.”

“Well,” Chan says, glancing down at Mingyu’s mouth for a split second before looking back up, the pull of his eyes magnetic enough to bring Mingyu even closer. “Why don’t you go ahead and do that, then?”

Mingyu does. He surges to close the small gap that remains between them and kisses Chan, exploring how well they fit together. And then Chan kisses back, and it turns hotter, a little wetter, nothing but a confirmation of their chemistry. It’s new and exciting, electrifying, but even as Mingyu’s hands slide to Chan’s back to pull him closer and indulge in the expanse of warm skin it feels less like a power surge and more like turning on the lights when he gets home. 

Mingyu hears Seokmin’s loud, delighted laugh off to the side somewhere, but he can’t bring himself to care, even as Chan pulls away and presses his forehead into Mingyu’s shoulder. He’s not sure if he just happened to gravitate towards their friends or if they went looking for him; he’s been too wrapped up in Chan to really notice anyone else. Either way, he's mildly irritated by the interruption.

“I knew there was a reason Seungkwan was so excited for tonight,” Seokmin yells over the music as he makes his way through the crowd. Minghao is in tow, his fashionably-styled mullet a little messier than it was when he arrived, glasses askew on his nose and looking very much like the culprit behind the new, cherry-red mark on Seokmin’s neck. 

“Voyeurism is illegal!” Mingyu yells back, and Seokmin just laughs again, but Mingyu looks down at Chan. “Sorry,” he says, just for him. 

“It’s okay,” Chan says, and when he looks up, his cheeks are pink. Mingyu doesn’t know if it’s from the alcohol, the heat of the club, or him; just another thing to learn. “Seungkwan told me he thought we’d get along. I should have known this was what he meant.”

Mingyu shrugs, then is distracted by Seokmin’s hand clapping him on the shoulder. “Ah, Mingyu-yah, I remember when Minghao and I first met,” he starts in his old-man voice. 

“Yeah, and we traded handjobs in the bathroom of my senior art show?” Minghao interjects, straight-faced. Chan laughs, a burst of sound like he didn’t mean to, and Mingyu grins down at him, enamored. 

“They were very romantic handjobs!” Seokmin argues, and Mingyu groans even as Chan continues to laugh. 

“Can you two go be gross somewhere else? There’s a bathroom here too, you know,” Mingyu says. 

“Oh, we know,” Minghao says, sounding aptly aware. 

Mingyu regrets saying anything, but then Chan tugs on his collar to get his attention, which he is more than happy to give. “Want to go get a drink?” he asks softly. 

In lieu of an answer, Mingyu pulls him away, miming a drink at Seokmin and Minghao, who are too busy getting wrapped up in each other again to really care. 

“Your friends seem great,” Chan says, raising his voice a little now that they’re walking through the crowd and not pressed up against each other. “But you seemed like you wanted to escape.”

Mingyu doesn’t even take the time to be impressed with how well Chan can read him already. It’s been maybe half an hour but it feels longer, like they’ve been reading each other for months. He’s suddenly overcome with a swell of affection, and he stops before they get to the bar, tugging Chan close to kiss him again. 

“Oh, hi,” Chan breathes when they part, and Mingyu can feel the words on his lips. “What was that for?”

Mingyu shrugs. “Do I need a reason to want to kiss you?”

Chan tilts his chin up in answer, barely needing to move to reconnect their lips. Already it feels familiar, and Mingyu’s head spins. This time, he’s more sure that it’s because of how sudden this is, how unexpected, rather than because of how much he’s had to drink. 

“I think I’m going to switch to water,” Mingyu says, getting sidetracked from their original mission and instead wrapping his arms around Chan’s waist. “But I’ll buy you a drink.”

“No, that’s okay,” Chan says, and before Mingyu can protest about being the hyung, how he should pay, Chan smiles up at him. “Do you wanna just get out of here? My place is close. Maybe we can talk more there, it’s quieter.” 

“Yeah,” Mingyu agrees, a little breathlessly. “Let’s do that.” 

And if they’re delayed on their way out because they keep drawing close again, distracted by the thrill that runs between them every time they kiss, Mingyu doesn’t have it in him to grow impatient. He has a feeling that there’s no need to rush, no shortage of time for them to spend together. However much he sees Chan’s words for the invitation that they are, he can also tell that there’s an equal chance they really will just end up talking.

When they finally do get outside and are waiting for their ride, Chan leans against Mingyu’s side and looks up at the sky. Mingyu follows his gaze and searches through the light pollution and thin layer of semi-permanent smog for the stars, finding a few. 

Chan sighs, and Mingyu makes an inquisitive hum. “Do you ever just take a minute to look at the stars?” Chan asks.

“Yeah,” Mingyu answers quietly, not wanting to break the moment. “All the time.”

Chan wraps his arms around Mingyu’s waist. “Do you ever wonder about the other people who are watching them? About their lives? How they’ve had their own childhoods, their own heartbreaks, the way that each of them have their own lives as deep and full of memories as yours?”

Mingyu looks down from the stars to Chan, but he doesn’t feel like he’s seeing anything different. 

“Yeah,” he whispers, and when Chan glances over to look at him, he’s smiling. 

Mingyu thinks that maybe he hasn’t been wondering about random strangers, but just one; someone the stars had in mind for him, someone who doesn’t feel much like a stranger at all anymore. 

—

Mingyu has a good feeling about tonight. It’s going to be special, he’s sure, because he’s the one who’s going to make it that way. It’s going to be the kind of night he and Chan will be talking about for months to come, maybe years, maybe the kind of night they’ll tell their children about one day— 

He may be getting a bit ahead of himself. 

It’s been just over three months since he fell face-first for Chan, since they started to learn about each other. In the time since, Mingyu learned that Chan is a graphic designer, that he was born Lee Jungchan, that he used to upload covers of idol choreography to Youtube under a pseudonym; he's learned that Chan is a fiercely hard worker who dedicates his full energy and intensity to whatever captures his attention. (Mingyu has learned how much he loves having that attention centered on him.)

In the same vein, Chan has learned just how much Mingyu loves to cook, when to come visit Mingyu when he’s late at the gallery setting up an exhibit with Minghao and when to just order food to be delivered, how much he loves to clean, how easily he can do mental math when Chan refuses to let him pay for their whole meal and insists on at least splitting the check. Mingyu might have teared up when Chan met Bobpul for the first time, and his lockscreen is a photo of the two of them asleep, Bobpul’s back against Chan’s chest and head tucked under his chin. 

Needless to say, Mingyu has fallen in love. It ripples through him at every touch, sparks up with every kiss, bursts at the seams every time they fall into bed (or the couch, or against the kitchen counter, or memorably, one time in Chan’s home office). Once he put a name to the feeling, it’s been almost impossible to keep it from slipping out. Mingyu just wants to tell him at the perfect time, in the perfect moment.

Which brings him to tonight. It’s a Friday, and Chan wrapped up a major project at work in the morning and took the afternoon off in defiance of the desires of his shitty boss, who would much rather he start with an entirely new client. When Mingyu gets home, Chan is asleep, and Mingyu wakes him up with gentle kisses that devolve into working each other up and over the edge with their hands and mouths. Mingyu almost tells him while they lie close to each other, after, but manages to hold off a little longer—after all, it's poor etiquette to tell someone you love them for the first time right after sex.

But now, after a shower and dinner and getting dressed, Mingyu’s plan begins. When Chan asked what kind of dress code to follow, Mingyu only told him that they were going to a club. It’s a small tragedy (medium-sized, to be honest) that it’s past crop top season, but Chan is beautiful as always, a cardigan thrown over his snakeskin-print shirt to complement the denim jacket Mingyu has over his black tee. Mingyu tells him as such, how beautiful he is, on their way out the door. It takes Bobpul nipping at Mingyu’s ankles to break them apart, and even still, their hands stay tangled together from the doorway of his apartment to the back of the taxi.

“Oh!” Chan says as the cab pulls up to their destination. “Oh, you sap.” 

Mingyu grins. “You remember it.” He pulls Chan out of the backseat and thanks the driver.

“Of course I remember where we met,” Chan chides, winding an arm around his waist as they make their way to the line. “Is this your mysterious plan?”

“Only part of it,” Mingyu says, coy. Giddy, really, but trying to contain himself.

“Oh?” Chan asks, playing into his covertness. “What else do you have in store, Kim Mingyu? Is it a surprise party?”

“No, no one else could make it out,” Mingyu says sadly. He’s a poor liar, and Chan knows this, but there’s no way to say that he texted Seungkwan and Seokmin specifically to not to come out without casting even more suspicion on him. But now, he realizes, Chan doesn’t know that that’s the lie he’s telling.

“Of course not,” Chan says suspiciously, cat-got-the-cream smile spreading across his face. 

Mingyu internally kicks himself, but sets it aside as they show their IDs and he pays the cover. When they walk inside, Mingyu unbuttons his jacket.

“Here, grab that table and I’ll get us drinks,” Mingyu says, shrugging the denim off of his shoulders when Chan holds a hand out expectantly. “Thanks, babe.”

“Let’s start with some poktanju,” Chan says sweetly, and presses a kiss to Mingyu’s cheek. 

Mingyu nods and holds off from smacking Chan’s ass when he turns and walks away. He drums his thumbs on the bar as he waits, thrumming with nervous energy, trying to imagine Chan’s reaction when Mingyu finally says it. The thought quickly spirals, and he orders an extra shot for himself while he waits. It’s hard to say if it helps settle his nerves or just shocks his system into focusing on how disgusting straight vodka is instead of worst-case scenarios, but by the time he has the beer glasses and soju shots grasped delicately in his hands, he’s back to concentrating on the Chan currently waiting for him, not the one in his imagination.

“Ooh, big hands,” Chan catcalls, meeting him a few steps from the high table he’s claimed and taking his half of the drinks. “Sexy man.”

“That’s me,” Mingyu agrees, running his tongue over his teeth flirtatiously. “Your sexy man.”

Chan laughs, bright and clear, and once they’re seated he lifts his soju glass to clink against Mingyu’s. “Geonbae,” he cheers, and when Mingyu echoes him, they drop their soju glasses into the beer and start to drink.

Mingyu only gets halfway through his poktanju before he has to catch his breath, and he watches Chan drink. It’s even hotter than it was when they first met, now that Mingyu has another context for the way Chan’s throat works, how his mouth is exactly as warm and wet and inviting— 

Mingyu brings his glass to his lips and drains it. He has other things to focus on.

Chan reaches across the table and grabs Mingyu’s hands, lacing their fingers together. “Big hands,” he murmurs again, and wow, how he makes Mingyu’s head spin. 

“Tiny hands,” Mingyu says, squeezing them to prove his point. “Want another drink? I opened a tab.”

“Nah, I’m okay for now,” Chan says, and Mingyu catches the way his eyes flit around the crowd, searching. “I can wait.”

Mingyu watches him and bites his lip, a little nervous. “Baby, there’s really no one else coming,” he says gently. “It’s just the two of us tonight.” 

“Oh!” Chan says, mouth shaping around the syllable. Mingyu cringes a little. “Oh, no, this is good! I’m happy it’s just us,” he rushes to add, leaning forward as if to prove his point further. “I thought you were—before, in line, but—it doesn’t matter, babe, I just want to spend time with you. Thank you for taking me out, I really needed this. I’m just curious at what your plan is.” He smiles, warm and real, and Mingyu can’t help but believe him. 

His face must betray his nerves anyway, because Chan gets up, rounding the table to stand between Mingyu’s legs and cup his face in both hands. “My sweet Mingoo,” he coos, pressing chaste kisses to his cheeks, then the smile that forms. “I’ll go get us drinks then, okay? You want a beer?”

“Soju, please,” Mingyu requests, his hands coming up to contrarily hold Chan’s waist and keep him in place. “Thanks, baby. Sorry I’m acting weird.”

“You’re fine,” Chan says, his eyes soft, looking like he wants to say more. He doesn’t, though, just pulls away after one last kiss. Mingyu watches him go, fond and lovesick and maybe a little poktanju-sick too, or at least just feeling it hit a little earlier than he was expecting. 

By the time Chan gets back, a bottle of grapefruit soju and two fresh glasses in hand, Mingyu is propping his head up with a hand, his elbow resting on the table. 

“Your cheeks are so pink already,” Chan teases, setting the glasses down and pouring the two of them shots. “Lightweight.”

“Can’t help it,” Mingyu says, taking his glass. “I guess I just get drunk on you too easy.”

Chan groans, and they take their shots. “You didn’t even use any pickup lines the last time we were here,” he complains after his glass hits the table. “It’s too late, you missed your chance.”

“Too bad,” Mingyu crows, refilling their glasses. “You’re stuck with me now, Lee Chan.” He feels a buzz under his skin, the one that comes with a reminder of how in love he is, and now, as they drink again, it starts to hum in his ears. 

“Oh yeah?” Chan asks, and his smile is sappy. “Why’s that?”

“‘Cause I love you,” Mingyu says easily. He’s toying with the cap of the soju bottle on the table, rolling it between his fingers, when the enormity of his words hits him. 

Oh, shit.

“Oh,” Chan gasps, and in half a second he’s back between Mingyu’s legs, cupping his face again, looking seriously between his eyes. “Really? You—you love me?”

Mingyu smiles sheepishly, leaning his head into a palm. “Yeah,” he says. “I love you.” Well, there goes his plan. But it comes so easily, too easy, that there’s no use denying it. Especially not now, not with the way Chan’s eyes are shining.

“I love you too,” he says back, voice awed. “Mingyu, I—”

He gets cut off by Mingyu surging up to kiss him, wrapping his arms around his waist and standing up, which changes the angle significantly and forces them to break apart. Chan laughs wondrously as Mingyu closes the gap between them again, the full force of his feelings flowing through him and into the kiss.

“Wow,” Chan murmurs against his lips, and Mingyu is inclined to agree.

“It feels good to finally say it,” he says, pulling back to give them some breathing room. “I’ve—ugh, this is embarrassing.”

“No,” Chan coos, brushing a piece of hair off of Mingyu’s forehead. “What were you going to say? Legally you have to tell me since we’re in love.”

Mingyu isn’t sure that that’s how the law works, but he’s feeling a little too drunk to be completely confident. 

“Well,” he says slowly. “I just wanted to tell you at the perfect time, you know? Make it the perfect romantic moment. So I thought if I brought you back to the place we first met, and then waited until we were outside on our way home, looking at the stars again, that it’d be the perfect moment.” 

Chan looks at him. Mingyu stares back, not sure what he’s thinking, and then Chan starts to laugh. “Hey!” Mingyu whines, aware that he’s fully pouting but not able to feel bad about it. “Come on, that was my whole plan for the night! I wanted it to be romantic!”

“Oh yes, romance,” Chan says between laughs. “Waiting for a taxi outside of a gay bar in Hongdae. That’s what always made me swoon.” 

Mingyu whines wordlessly, his lower lip jutting out childishly far. Chan stops laughing and thumbs at it, still amused. “Babe,” he says softly. “You’re so sweet. I love that you were thinking about us, and that you planned this all out. But I love you, Kim Mingyu. I don’t need some grand romantic gesture or picture-perfect moment. I just need you to love me back.”

Mingyu deflates, bumping his forehead against Chan’s. “Yeah,” he says, just as soft. “Well, lucky for us, I do love you.” 

Chan hums, brushing his lips against Mingyu’s. “Well, that’s good to know.” His voice is a little deeper, suggestive. Mingyu is on board with the direction he's headed immediately. “Want to go dance?”

“One more shot first,” Mingyu says, and reaches over for the bottle. “You have no idea how nervous I’ve been about this.”

Chan laughs and pulls back enough for Mingyu to pour the shots. He’s a little messy, his hand a little too heavy as he pours, but in half a moment they’re bringing their shot glasses up to their mouths. Mingyu looks at Chan, and Chan is looking back, and they drink. The eye contact is heavy, charged, and Mingyu knows that however long they dance will be cut short.

For now, though, they work their way between pulsing bodies until they find a space on the dancefloor, and they dance. It’s different from the first time; now, their hands fall confidently onto each other, and their bodies slot together, natural in the way that comes with practice. But that same thrill is moving through Mingyu, the same electric charge that comes with being with Chan. Last time, it was a spark of excitement, the intrigue of someone new; now, it’s with the thrill of knowing his body, of loving and being loved in return. 

Mingyu’s hands move up Chan’s sides and Chan’s hands tangle into his hair and they move together, in rhythm with each other more than the music. Mingyu groans, low and private and just for Chan. Fuck the perfect moment. He's drunk and in love and a little turned on, and now that the dam broke, it feels ridiculous to have built one in the first place. “I love you,” he says into Chan’s ear, just because he can.

Chan pulls him down, closer, and Mingyu had no idea that the words could be so erotic, but when Chan breathes a “love you too” into his ear, he understands. Arousal shoots through him, mixed with a thrill and soju and the feeling of being the man that Lee Chan loves.

“Want to go home?” Mingyu asks, nipping at the soft spot under Chan’s ear. But then he remembers a conversation from their first night, and he’s a little drunk, and mixed with the love and giddiness inside of him he feels invincible. “Or maybe a bathroom stall?”

Chan laughs into his neck. “Bathroom,” he agrees, and steps away, taking Mingyu’s hand to pull him along.

The bathroom is blessedly empty, and Mingyu knocks his shoulder against the stall door as he tries to close it. “Ow,” he whines, but then he starts to laugh at his own clumsiness. He's about to have hot bathroom stall sex with his boyfriend, who loves him and whom he loves, and tomorrow he's going to have a hangover and a bruise on his shoulder.

Chan laughs too, and then the stall door is locked, and then they’re laughing into each other’s mouths, and then the laughter fades. Heat builds in its place, enough that Mingyu feels it collecting in his face and chest. Eventually, Chan starts gasping out little affected noises with each kiss, his hands gripping Mingyu's hair and shoulder while Mingyu's roam under Chan's shirt, and Mingyu swallows each sound down. He can feel Chan start to grind against his hip and he has to pull back to tug his shirt off, the heat an unwelcome distraction. 

“What are you doing?” Chan yelps, pulling back and breaking out into breathless laughter. “We're in a bathroom! You don't take your shirt off for club bathroom sex!”

Mingyu vaguely feels the need to explore how Chan knows that, but the only thing he does is stare at where he's dropped the shirt onto the floor. “I might be a little too drunk for bathroom sex,” he realizes, and Chan rolls his eyes fondly.

“Yeah, I think so,” he says, and reaches behind Mingyu to unlock the door again. “Come on, you can sober up on the ride back to my apartment and we can see how we feel then.”

“Oh, yes. I want to take my time with you,” Mingyu agrees, and he walks backwards out of the stall, stumbling a little. 

Chan yelps, reaches out for his belt loops to steady him, and then they walk out, arm-in-arm, laughing at themselves. They grab their coats from the table, and once they’re outside, Chan looks down at his torso and laughs.

“You cold?” he asks, sliding his hands under Mingyu’s denim jacket and landing on bare skin. He grins up at Mingyu, hands pressing and squeezing gently at his stomach.

“No, but your hands are, shit,” Mingyu gasps. It takes him a moment, and then he looks down at his bare chest, exposed by his haphazard buttoning. “Oh, fuck, Channie.”

Chan giggles. “Oh, my Mingyu,” he says fondly. Lovingly. “I'm lucky the club was so dark, if anyone saw you shirtless they'd try to steal you away from me.”

"They could never," Mingyu says seriously, his brow furrowing. "I love you too much. I'd fight for your honor."

Chan rolls his eyes, but leans up to steal a kiss. "I love you too. Now come here, come keep me warm."

Mingyu can’t help but comply, and he wraps Chan up in his arms, rubbing his back in broad smooth motions. He looks up at the sky as Chan opens Kakaotaxi and rests his cheek on the top of Chan’s head. It's a little cloudy, remnants of the rain from that afternoon, but when he looks closely enough, he can make out a few stars. They grow brighter the longer he looks, twinkling down at him as if in approval.

“Hey, Chan?” he asks softly, and Chan hums at him. “You think that when we looked up at the stars, we were ever looking at the same time?”

Mingyu can feel the smile Chan presses into his neck. “Yeah,” he says. “I think we were.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed <3
> 
> so much thanks to [carina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/infrequency) for the life-saving beta read, as always!


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